Potential
by Diaphanous
Summary: Agent Coulson writes a report about a new power SHIELD is eyeing. Barton is just there for inserting witty comments. Well, he thinks they're witty anyway. *a non-linear, but related series of drabbles/shorts about an agent and a demi-god*
1. Potential

**Potential**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing! I might have some pocket lint... And if you want that, you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

And yes, I am not dead yet.

000/000

Agent Philip J. Coulson warily eyed the archer hovering over his shoulder. "Is there a problem, Barton?" he intoned His pen did not touch the paper that would become his assessment report of SHIELD's newest potential recruit. And yes, he was alive. No, he will not let anyone outside of Medical and Fury know how it happened. Except there was a vial of really hinky stuff involved. Like seriously hinky-weird shit that would make Loki's stick of mind-controlling doom seem like a fairy wand that shot bubbles out of its pointy end. Classified.

"Nooo...?" Clint Barton rocked back on his heels, smiling and eyes wide.

"Was that a question?" Coulson asked. He got a shrug in reply. "And stop hovering like a grandmother."

"Oi!" Clint yelped when he was yanked into the chair next to the SHIELD handler's desk.

"Sit. Be quiet. Don't hover." The older man jabbed his pen at the archer's general direction with each command as he turned back to his notebook. Before Clint could snatch the pen, Coulson jerked away to begin writing:

000/000

**Philip J. Coulson**, Level 9

SHIELD Agent/Handler

09/14/2012

Name: Harry James Potter

Code Name: White Serpent

Age: ~530 years old

Height: 5 foot 11 inches

Weight: 158 lbs

Eye Color: Yellow (_formerly green_)

Hair Color: White (_formerly very dark auburn_)

Ethnicity: Immortal humanoid/demi-god (formerly homo-sapien/wizard) **NOTE**: can transform into any kind of snake, usually prefers the poisonous ones

ETC:

-Wears blue-tinted glasses; his gaze is deadly without them. You will drop dead upon eye contact.

-Travels multi-universe like most of his kind

-Masters weapons with ease; give him a weapon he's never used before, he will perfect his ability to use it over the course of several hours (_NO FAIR!_ –CB)

_000/000_

Coulson glared when Clint gave back the pen. "Barton... thin ice," he growled. The blond grinned and gestured for the Avengers' handler to continue.

_000/000_

-Has a grim, anti-social personality. **NOTE**: Do not touch him without express permission. Doing so will result in missing limbs at the very least.

-Uses magic only during conflict but will not cause conflict nor seek it out. _**NOTE:**__ but will fuck your shit up without remorse if you piss him off. –CB_

_000/000_

"Write your own preliminary report on Potter, Barton!" Coulson barked. He forcefully took back his stolen pen.

"But it's more fun if I just add onto yours!"

_000/000_

-Will not stand by, despite anti-social tendencies, if there are people to help. Hero-complex.

CONCLUSION

White Serpent would be an excellent asset to SHIELD. _If he gave a crap... _(Coulson sighed but let Clint give back his pen).

However, he would most likely rip Anthony E. Stark apart limb by limb. (See previous observation about touching_)_. _Dude, poor Bobbi lost three fingers trying to flirt with him._ And Agent C. Barton would lose his head. _Totes true._

RECOMMENDATION

Avengers Initiative Consultant only; treat with extreme caution and respect. _Because he will turn you inside-out if he gets pissy enough. Just ask Hill. Christ I never thought I'd ever see that woman run away from anybody. _That's because she got in his face and didn't learn from Fury's experience when he was turned into a hamster and put in a hamster ball for a week. _Word..._

000/000

"You should totally hand that in as is, Coulson," Clint said, his blue eyes dancing in amusement. Coulson snorted but his reply died in his throat as an explosion caused the floor to buckle. "Umm, didn't Stark blast-proof all ten floors of labs below us?"

"Yes..." the older agent drawled uneasily.

"Should we check on it?"

"JARVIS?"

"It has been contained and the tower's infrastructure remains undamaged, sir," the AI replied primly.

"Good deal. So, headquarters?" the archer asked.

"Let me grab my coat."

000/000

Harry Potter, aka White Serpent, squinted down at the bottom of his tea cup. "Oh bugger..."

000/000

**END**

Okay, the plot bunny has been assuaged. Back to whatever I was trying to do with Soul Biscuits...


	2. Origins

**Origins**

Disclaimer: I don't own.

The plunnie came back because of you guys. So here, a backstory!

000/000

Infinity. It is without beginning, without end. It is thought; it is heart; it is soul. But one's being is not infinite, though it is composed of all three aspects. Everyone is born from the infinity and will go back to it when they die. Infinity is just there.

However there are those who can break away from the infinity. They are entities born from it who then defy its call upon death. The infinity gave too much of itself with each one when they were born, thus the power to separate. There are those who also never want to defy the cycle, and so never try despite the ability to do so. But the majority of those who can, they choose to do it. And sometimes when they tire of that, they force another to take their place to keep the balance.

I am a demi-god now. I was very reluctant, you must understand. You see, I was one of the beings who didn't want to leave the cycle. If I left, I could never be reborn with my loved ones. I was supposed to die young, at the cusp of thirty. But another god pulled me away before I could properly join back into the cycle.

My first death at seventeen was not truly death but a crossroads and a choice go back to finish a prophecy. Pesky things, prophecies. But this death, my final death, was the one intended by the infinity. I welcomed it. I was so tired already. Instead this god, this entity who had chosen to break away from infinity permanently, dragged me back for his own purposes. He forced his overlarge portion of infinity into my torn up body, dispersed himself, and he got escape the infinity without form. I think the Buddhists call it enlightenment, escape from Samsara. Personally I call it fucking me over. My humanity was destroyed. My magic was amplified. And I took on his domain.

So I am a god of serpents, death, and war. Very unpleasant. I tend to keep to myself, you see. I never interact with my fellow immortals, hate them in fact. But now I am stuck separate from infinity. I wander the existences, the universes, without purpose save helping others in need. I am still so tired. Yet I am not enough of an asshole after all of these centuries to do what my predecessor did to someone else.

Damn...

000/000

Harry Potter, code name White Serpent, channeled a bit of magic through his breath and blew across his written words. The ink dried instantly on the parchment. He closed his leather-bound journal and began to put away his quill set.

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

The demi-god glanced over at his StarkPhone. The screen was flashing red. He reached out and tapped the touchscreen.

"ASSEMBLE! ASSEMBLE!" the automated message shrieked from the speaker.

Harry smiled, stood from his desk, and ran out of his study.

Maybe he lied in that last paragraph.

Maybe this was his purpose...

000/000

**END**

Sorry about earlier. Thought I had edited all mentions of Harry's old code name. Thanks for reading everyone!

*haha, got rid of the most of cheese at the end. Fixed a few typos. Sorry for flooding anyone's inbox... :B -07/27


	3. Servants of Cosmos

**Servants of Cosmos**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own HP, Avengers, or the Goddess Cosmos from Dissidia: Final Fantasy (And I'm just borrowing only her name and her domain. And she's a capital 'G' deity, a big cheese) *digs into pocket, holds out lint and a penny* I do own that though...

_Notes_: Way before Potential and way, way before the ending in Origins; parts are borrowed from one of my untitled pieces in my idea pit.

000/000

_Cosmos is the Mother of the Universes. _

_She is Perfection, filled with Grace. _

_But do not mistake Her beauty for weakness, _

_for She is also the guardian who holds back Chaos, _

_who prevents the Shadows from spilling out onto Her creation. _

_Oh merciful Goddess, shine thy benevolent light upon us..._

-Analects of a Lost Age: The Fallen, Book of Origine, 1:7

000/000

Basilisk bowed his ancient head as he knelt before his Goddess. "My queen," he rasped. He did not flinch as sharp blue eyes stared down upon him.

"How long has it been, Basilisk, since you separated from the infinity and became what you are now?" the Goddess asked softly, her voice like a thousand chiming, harmonious bells.

"Eons and eons, majesty," he answered. His blind but still deadly gaze stayed neutralized behind blue lenses. Those bright yellow orbs concentrated upon the golden floor. "I live to serve you and only you."

"Eons... A long time, indeed. I hear whispers of your weariness, Lord of Serpents."

"Rumors-"

"That are truth; do not lie." There was no anger in Her voice. There is only acceptance and amusement. "You have been here so long. Often times... I forget when it was when you were not here or wandering amongst My stars." She leaned back in her throne in an effortless and elegant sprawl. "Do I not see all? Know all?"

"You are the Goddess," Basilisk answered slowly. The demi-god blinked. He was unsure where the conversation was going but he played along. "Everything that falls beneath Your gaze is Your knowledge."

"Yes, you speak truth." There was a pause and then She spoke again. "There is another who is like you. So young though, so full of power. Balance must be maintained."

000/000

_She will choose a warrior. _

_Eternally will he wander, _

_defending Her creation and the worlds therein. _

_Fierce, proud, and strong but his heart will yearn for finality. _

_There will be none to be had for She chose him as champion._

_Despair not, warrior. _

_The Goddess is with you always._

-Analects of a Lost Age: The Fallen, Book of Profet, 5:11

000/000

"If you could, would you choose to cease your being?" the Goddess asked after a much longer pause. "You would seek oblivion? For you know if you decide to leave, you cannot reenter the infinity..."

"It would upset its balance," Basilisk finished as She trailed off. "Since it already healed itself when I severed my tether to it."

"How well you know Me," the Goddess sighed. She twirled a strand of her golden hair around elegant fingers. "Tell Me when you do decide to be free of this immortal life."

"As you wish..."

000/000

Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He coughed, flecks of crimson spraying from his lips. He lay there curled up in a ball. A pool of blood spread out around his dying body. And then warm fingertips brushed against his cooling forehead. Blurry green eyes blinked open. It was a difficult task.

"Little brother..." a brittle, old voice called to him as he tried to give in to the pull of death. "Not yet, you can't die."

"No..." he croaked, trying to escape as those warm fingertips changed into a tightly grasping hand. Sharp nails dug crescent marks into his bloody temples. Violet light filled the air and surrounded him. He thrashed as the light sunk sharply into him.

Harry Potter screamed.

000/000

There once was a boy born to loving parents. But Death stole them with green lightning. From there the boy knew only suffering and servitude. At times the boy knew happiness or at least contentedness. However, he was forced into a role. He was forged cruelly He was the blade wielded by the Self-Righteous, the lamb directed to slaughter. But what his wielder did not know was that the boy had a destiny beyond being a sword held by the tarnished White Knight. And so the boy escaped both Death and wielder.

But another net closed in. His new blacksmith thrust him, briefly and brutally, into a different pool of existence. He was beyond all mortal ken; beyond anything a human could ever understand.

The boy was not happy about any of this.

000/000

Harry stormed through the Fields of Roth, headed straight for Valnir and the Goddess' throne room. The golden spires of the city rose above the horizon as he raged along. Blue-lensed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose and kept trying to slide down. He paid no mind to the others who lined the shining streets. The demi-gods parted before his rampage, like a sea before the Goddess. Whispers echoed in his wake; about who he was, the Serpent Lord who proceeded him, and the potential source of his anger.

The wizard-who-was-more-now slammed open the high, double doors of the throne room. They clanged closed behind him. He finally lurched to a stop at the very first step of the thirty that led up to the Goddess and her throne.

"You are angry," She said. "Why do you rage, Basilisk?"

"I. AM. NOT. BASILISK!" Harry roared.

"Yes, you are," the Goddess replied. "You are Basilisk now."

"I refuse to be your slave!"

It was that statement that finally drew the Goddess away from her vague study of the ceiling. Her blue gaze sharpened to razor-like intensity. She concentrated it onto her newest demi-god. "There are no slaves here," She scolded. "There is only Balance." Harry jabbed a finger in her direction, screamed wordlessly, and spun on his heel.

With a crack of displaced air and the hiss of the swirl of time-space, Harry Potter went on his first wandering.

It was on his fourth wandering that he stumbled upon a junior Agent of SHIELD. It was the year 1987 on Earth 389271 and the agent was twenty-two-years-old. His name was Philip Coulson...

000/000

**END**

Haha, cliffie...

Love you guys! Thanks for reading everybody!


	4. Got Made

**Got Made  
**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything... even my lint got taken.

000/000

_000 PREVIOUSLY 000_

_It was on his fourth wandering that he stumbled upon a junior Agent of SHIELD. It was the year 1987 on Earth 389271 and he was twenty-two-years-old. His name was Philip Coulson..._

Or rather Philip stumbled upon him.

000/000

The wet rasp of his labored breathing echoed in his ears. He tried desperately to quiet it. Loud boot-steps thumped as groups of mercenaries splintered into organized groups in their search for him. He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Thankfully the shouting below him covered the sound. Shakily he pulled away his fingers. Blood dotted his palm. He already knew he had internal bleeding. The ache in his side screamed with each breath that he took. There were superficial cuts on his face and his right thigh was bleeding sluggishly, not enough to leave a blood trail yet. Alarms blared sharp as the mercenaries grew frantic.

Today just wasn't Junior Agent Philip Coulson's day.

Phil sighed, a rattle to it. Slowly he began to drag himself through the air vents. Mentally he started to make a list of every single instance of incompetency his enemies had been making. And in his head, he labeled his former and now dead partner as an idiot. This SNAFU was totally not Phil's fault. O'Brady had blown their cover and then got his head blown off. So yeah, he was covered in drying bits of brain. Classy. Phil had escaped the immediate scuffle with only his aforementioned injuries. And brain stains on his suit.

The young man encountered a fork in the ventilation system with a grate in the four-way intersection. Just like in the movies, a pair of gossiping idiots were talking as they guarded a door. Curious, Phil cocked his head to the side to listen over the shouting and alarms.

"Christ, Bob! How come we can't be going after this infiltrator?" the dimmer of the two goons asked his compatriot, his New Jersey accent grating to Coulson's sensitive ears.

"Because, you idiot, we can't leave this fucker here," Goon Number One replied, a Texan drawl dragging out his words. "With one look after ripping off his glasses, Morty dropped dead. Appearing out of nowhere like that, sheee-it... Boss wants this guy's mojo and his eyes. So yeah, can't leave him here. What if he escapes?"

"But... we got him blindfolded and chained up. He ain't going anywhere."

"Orders are orders, asshole. And how many times do I have to tell you? It's Robert, not fucking Bob. Do I look like a fucking Bob to you?"

How unprofessional. Phil snorted, curiosity taking hold. Well, this is already a fucked situation. So fuck it, let's see this 'fucker'. He went left, sliding almost silently through the shaft. After a moment, he came to a dead- end with another grate right in front of his face. Phil blinked his hazel green eyes. Peeking in, the agent raised his eyebrows at the dramatic sight below.

A man with short white curls tight against his skull was seated in a chair. His hands were primly lying on his thighs, palms down. His back was straight as an arrow and his head was cocked to the side like a bird. Chains were wrapped around him and the chair; the chains anchored to the floor at four points. A large, livid bruise took up over half the man's face, though part of it was blocked from view. Like Goon Two said, a white cloth served as a blindfold.

To the side of the room, a table of gleaming steel held a pair of glasses with blue lenses, a folded pile of cloth, and what looked like a ring from the angle Phil was at in the vent. Nothing else was in there except a camera in the far upper corner. With a curse, Phil knew that he couldn't risk being caught on the camera in the room with only one door out.

"It's alright," the man spoke, startling Phil. "I can short it out." He straightened his neck and slowly pivoted his head to the side. The camera burst apart, raining glitter. "There."

Now doubly curious, _the Director was going to be so pissed_, Phil slammed the grate with a hard fist but caught it in time before it could crash onto the floor. He had no desire to tangle with the Goon Twins. He then wriggled around to the point where he could drop down feet first. His injuries protested but Phil ignored the pain. He dropped like a three-legged cat; landing on his feet and then falling to his knees with a hiss rushing out from behind his gritted teeth.

"That sounded painful," the still chained-up man said.

"If you... can short the camera," Phil huffed through his pain, "Couldn't you just escape by yourself?"

"And miss all the fun?" the white-haired man asked. He quirked his lips into an almost-smile and the chains slithered off of him. He stood, barely the same height as Phil. "My name is Harry," he said in a pleasant tone. He held out a hand in the direction of the table. The unusual glasses zoomed into his outstretched palm. Phil tried not to gape like a country bumpkin. "You need to hide your surprise better." The blindfold was ripped off, revealing delicate, closed eyelids. The being named Harry slipped the aviator style glasses up the bridge of his elegant nose. He blinked his eyes open. And then he smiled.

"Err..." Phil finally realized how pleasant looking this man-being was despite the strange blue glasses. And the SHIELD junior agent couldn't even begin to guess his eye color. "I'm Philip," he said lamely. '_Oh my God, really? Really?'_ He had a feeling this 'Harry' was laughing at him just from the way the corners of his eyes crinkled behind the almost transparent lenses. "We should go now." He refused to take a step back when Harry crowded into his personal space. But he did flinch when gentle fingers brushed against the apple of his right cheek.

"Quite the bruise, Philip," Harry said softly, his posh British accent giving way to a deeper, rougher brogue.

"Not as impressive as yours," Phil replied, slowly regaining his mental equilibrium. But the moment broke when he started coughing, his already bloody hand over his lips. He didn't see the other man frown. "Shit..." Blood stained the corners of his mouth. "Hey! What are you-?"

Harry pressed a hand against Phil's aching side. "I will heal the worst of it," he said. "But I am no medic. You'll need normal healing time after this. Now hold still."

The junior agent gasped as a slow, low burn infused his injured insides. "Holy Moses..." he gasped as Harry pulled away. "What are you?"

The white-haired man laughed. "Not yet, Philip," he answered in a vague voice. He did the same trick he used on his glasses with the ring and cloth. The ring, a white metal circle with a black stone set in it, settled onto his right ring finger. He then caught the fabric and swirled it around to let it settle onto his shoulders. It was a cloak of some kind, a shimmering black. There was a strange, golden pin that held it on his left shoulder. "Want to see me defeat these idiots with a pen and myself?" Harry asked. He held up a pen he had dug out from the inside of his cloak.

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Wow me," he deadpanned. He didn't visibly shudder at the shark grin that crossed Harry's face.

"You'll do," Harry replied to the other's challenge. "I was never here. But it's best that you take notes, Philip. And never let them see you flinch."

Philip J. Coulson would take those words to heart for the rest of his life.

000/000

**END**

Aww, their very first interaction. NewbieAgent!Phil is fun to write. This universe is fun to write in. Maybe I'll crank out the hamster incident but no promises.


	5. Vial

**Vial**

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

000/000

"Odin Borson, what do you seek?" Cosmos raised her eyebrows as the young demi-god knelt before her. "Oh-ho, and now you kneel..." Beside her stood the most ancient of her servants, a blind Basilisk. And though he could not see, his gaze was still sharp like the edge of a knife. The yellow irises held no clouding and the pupil was elongated like a serpent.

"I seek my own pantheon, my Queen," Odin, he would become known as the All-Father in Universe 389271, stated.

"The others of your group must go with you," Basilisk stated. He slowly and carefully made his way down the steps that led up to Cosmos' throne. "That includes the Jotun."

"I understand."

"The Nine Realms of 389271 will be under your gaze. But!" Cosmos smiled, cold and cruel. "But... if you are to become all-knowing and far-seeing as the god-king of this particular universe, you must sacrifice one thing. For there is Balance."

Basilisk stopped right before the kneeling demi-god. He held out his hand, the tips of his long, wrinkled fingers nearly brushing the tip of Odin's nose.

"An eye," Cosmos stated. Her voice echoed throughout her throne-room. The immortal courtiers that lined the edges of the room gasped. "We would have one from you."

Odin Borson raised his head to stare into the golden gaze of Basilisk that blindly stared back from behind blue-tinted glasses. "An eye?" he croaked. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Opening them again, he nodded. "So be it, an eye to become a god-king."

Odin Borson did not scream as Basilisk's hand shot forth and ripped out his right eye.

000/000

_2000 Years Later_

"Old serpent," Odin All-Father called softly. He stood upon a balcony that overlooked the gardens of his palace. From the shadows of his study, Basilisk stepped out. His feet made no sound and he stopped several feet behind the god.

"One-Eye," Basilisk greeted. He stepped forward further until he could hover right over Odin's shoulder without being seen by any who would look up. A pair of children played below, blond and brunet. "There is a storm coming, Odin Borson."

"Did Herself send you, Basilisk?" Odin asked, turning his head so his only eye could look at Basilisk from its corner. When he did not get an answer, he turned back to gaze down upon his sons. "What storm?"

"It will be a while yet. Beware of your little cuckoo chick, Son of Bor."

"What do you mean?" Odin turned around fully only to be greeted by the emptiness of his study. "Suzaku is right; that is severely irritating."

000/000

_1500 Years Later (Earth Year 1992)_

"Be careful."

Loki Odinson whirled around in surprise. He stared at the youthful-looking man with white hair sitting upon a bench in his workshop. "I demand to know how you got in here!" the prince snarled. "Answer me!"

"I answer to only one person. You are not She." The man tilted his head a little to dodge the blast of magic shot at him. "My, my. I thought it was Thor who was the hotheaded one." He laughed and hopped up to dodge another blast. Blue-tinted glasses glinted in the firelight of the torches. Before Loki could blink, the man was in his personal space and grabbing his wrist that had held another ball of magic. "So you are the one."

"The one what?" Loki snapped, tugging uselessly against the other's grip.

"The cuckoo chick my predecessor knew of before he decided to make me into him," the man said cheerfully. And then his smile faded away. "Be forewarned, you do anything that I do not approve of and I will find you..." He tugged him forward and down. "And I will destroy everything that makes yourself you," he whispered. The man vanished.

Loki stumbled forward, barely catching his footing back.

000/000

_Earth Year 2008_

"Philip," Harry called softly. He took a step to the side, a screwdriver just sailing past his cheek. "You're getting better and better."

Philip Coulson, age forty-three, frowned. "I am getting old," he retorted. He and Harry did not give the screwdriver sticking hilt-deep out the wall any more mind. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You still haven't reported me to Fury, yet. Why?" Harry smiled at the frustrated sound the much younger man made. "My, my. How is it that you are so unflappable at SHIELD but with me you are so emotional?"

"I never let them see me flinch. And stop dodging the question." Phil blinked when a vial of glowing purple liquid was shoved before his face. "Jesus, what is that?"

"Hinky stuff. Meant for healing fatal wounds. Can only be taken once in a lifetime," Harry said casually. He picked up Coulson's limp right hand. He gently placed the vial into his calloused palm. Curling Phil's fingers around it, Harry stepped back.

"Harry, no games. I have to go to Malibu. What is going on with you?"

"Philip, be careful. Take that when the time comes. My gift to you, my young friend. Tell Fury about me; tell him about all that I have taught you." Slowly Harry started to fade away. "She is calling me, my Queen. I cannot interfere any further. There is a storm coming."

000/000

_Earth Year 2012_

**Beep. Beep. Beep.**

Hazel green eyes fluttered open. Philip Coulson couldn't let out his scream because of the tube going down his throat as his vision cleared, Fury's face swimming into focus. Shit, that is not a face anyone wants to wake up to no matter what.

"Welcome back, Agent Coulson," Fury said. He held up an empty vial. There was a film of dull purple along its bottom inside. "Your ghost's liquid bullshit pulled you through. Thought I lost you." He waved forward someone who was outside the edge of Phil's vision.

The head medic popped up before his eyes. Carefully, the medic extracted the tube as the agent coughed. A sliver of ice was stuck between Phil's lips. The cool moisture allowed him to speak.

"You gave me an order, sir," Phil rasped.

000/000

**END**


	6. Accipiter Brevipes and Oxyuranus Microle

**Accipiter Brevipes and Oxyuranus Microlepidotus**

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't own these fandoms. And Google the title if you're that curious. That's what I did.

000/000

Thunder boomed and lightning streaked across the night skies. As rain poured down in a torrent, Harry, successor of the immortal Basilisk, stood upon the jutting head and shoulders of a gargoyle. His white hair, formerly a dark, dark auburn, was flat against his scalp. Water ran down his face and neck in rivulets. His blue-tinted aviator glasses were tight against his face. The color of the lenses prevented his stare from killing anyone who met his gaze. The immortal wizard demi-god watched as a boy, not old enough to be considered a young man, ran through the empty streets. Obviously he was being chased but Harry didn't wait to see who was doing the chasing. A bolt of blue lightning illuminated the block briefly, his glasses glinting.

With a pivot of his feet, Harry followed across the rooftops. His sharp gaze caught sight of the empty quiver slung across the other's back. He cursed sharply when the boy took a wrong turn. Four thugs surrounded him quickly. He hopped down to a ledge in order to hear better over the rain and thunder.

"Hey Arrows, where you going?" the lead thug drawled.

How original. Harry huffed as he balanced on the ledge on the balls of his feet. His left hand rested on his knee while his right was flat on the ledge between his feet. He leaned forward. His silhouette was a curved caricature on the gargoyle he had been perched on earlier. His white curls were gray from being completely soaked and he swept it back with his left hand.

"What's it to you, asshole?" the boy snarled. He was clenching a boy in his right hand. In the shadows of the night, Harry could not discern his eye color but he could see the expression in them. Resignation and defiance sparked in them, mixing with fear. The thugs closed in.

"You owe us money, little shit," another thug growled. "You think you can con us?"

"I don't think I can con you," the boy replied, goading with bravado, "I did con you." His eyes widened as the four thugs made to lunge at him. He squeaked when Harry swooped down between him and the men, taking out the leader with a flash of silver metal. The other three thugs stumbled to a halt as they watched their leader's head roll away.

"Now this doesn't seem fair," Harry quipped, his brogue thicker than usual. Blood was washed way from the pouring rain. "Let's even it up." He smiled as the men scrambled to run. But Harry didn't give them the chance. He leapt, his knees slamming into Thug 2's back. With his first dagger, he severed the other's spine while a second dagger slipped out of his sleeve and into his other hand. With that second dagger, he cut the jugular of the Thug 3. Both were dead just as Thug 4 took another six steps before meeting his end. A dagger had found itself buried to the hilt into the back of his head. Lightning flashed again, briefly shining light upon the four dead bodies.

"Urk..." the boy choked out. He watched as Harry slowly got up to his booted feet. He took a step back, his back flush against the alley's brick end. His quiver dug into his spine.

"You should go back home, now," Harry said, his brogue smoothing out into a pleasant, BBC news worthy British accent. "And next time, make sure to find a place that has two exits."

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow. This kid had guts, considering he had just watched the wizard kill four men. "I'm Serpent. And you?" The rain slowed and the thunder rumbled away to the next area.

"I'm Hawk."

"Very good. Never give your real name, little bird." Harry took a step to the side. "Best hurry. I'll clean up this mess."

"What about...?"

"Oh, your arrows!" The wizard dug around in his cloak. He held out a fistful of them. "Don't worry about the blokes you shot."

"You kill them too?" Hawk blurted out, water dripping down from the tip of his nose.

"Nooo..." Harry drawled. "I just took their memories." He waved the arrows at the boy. "Take them and leave, lad. Come on."

Hawk gingerly minced his way across the bodies strewn in the alleyway. He hesitated by Harry. "Gonna kill me too?" he asked, sounding so young.

"Nah, you're too interesting," Harry said. He smirked as the boy flinched when the wizard shoved the arrows into the empty quiver. He watched from behind blue lenses as the boy called Hawk skittered away and booked it into the night.

000/000

Clint Barton stared out into the distance from his perch on the top of Avengers Tower. People were like little ants milling around on the streets far below. Only the wind whistling around the tower filled his ears with a faint undertone of beeping car horns that only he could hear. In his hand, he held an old arrow, the last of a quiversful from back when he was a carnie boy running cons and shooting for show.

"You kept one," Harry said softly from behind him. Clint could hear the smile in his voice.

The archer looked over his shoulder at the stoic face of the immortal. "You know, you scared the shit out of me back then," he replied. He turned his head back to look out over the still recovering city of New York.

"Oh, I know." The wizard walked closer until they stood shoulder to shoulder. "Made you think twice, did it?"

A smirk graced Clint's lips. "Not really. I kinda wanted to learn how to be badass like that, actually." He chuckled. "For a long time, I thought you were an avenging angel. And then some sort of mercenary with a knives. Thought I could be one too but with bows and arrows."

"I am none of those things."

"I know."

There was a comfortable pause.

"Hey Serpent?"

"Yes Hawk?"

"Thanks."

000/000

END

Wee!Clint is adorable. Naughty but adorable. Harry freaked him out though. Not that I blame him...


	7. Science!

**SCIENCE!**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything...

000/000

"Sooo..." Tony Stark drawled. "What's up, Snakeman?" The billionaire superhero plopped down into a seat across from the white-haired man at the kitchen table.

"That's not my codename," Harry Potter said, not even looking up from his novel.

"Why is it that you never use the SReader I gave you?" Tony whined, "I even made it to where your 'magic fingers' don't short it out!"

"And I am grateful," the wizard immortal replied, dog-earring his current page. He closed the hardback book and set it down onto the table. "However I like holding an actual book."

The genius pointed a long finger at him. "That's so old school, man! This is the year twenty-twelve! Twenty-twelve!" He slapped his hand down onto the table for emphasis.

"I noticed." A quirk of his lips gave away the wizard's amusement. "What did you need, Tony?" He ignored the other man's pout.

"I need you!" Tony's hand whipped back up to point dramatically, his fingertip nearly brushing Harry's nose. The wizard didn't even flinch.

"For Science?" Harry asked.

"SCIENCE!" The brunet of the duo swung his hand upward, now pointing toward the ceiling. "Let's go! For SCIENCE!" Tony jumped up and pulled an unresisting Harry to his feet.

"SCIENCE!" Jane Foster screamed as she passed by the kitchen, headed for the elevators that led specifically for the R&D floors. Bruce Banner trailed after her, looking bemused.

"You people scare me..." Harry muttered as he let himself be dragged along.

000/000

**END**


	8. Chains

**Chains**

Disclaimer: I don't own.

_NOTE: Serious..._

000/000

Home is lost to me. Freedom is but a distant dream. I struggle against the magic that binds me to Her. But I was forcefully sworn to her and unless I find a way to at least redirect the bond, I will forever remain Her serpent...

000/000

Glass shattered as a vase connected violently with the far wall. Harry Potter, known as Basilisk to his Goddess and White Serpent to SHIELD, stood in the middle of the room, his chest heaving as rage swirled through him. He had tossed the vase. The flowers lay forlornly upon the floor and the carpet absorbed the water. He gasped and fell to his knees as the call got strong. The immortal wizard writhed on the floor. His fingers dug into the expensive carpet.

"NO!" he shouted. His body faded in and out of focus. Distantly he could hear JARVIS calling to him. He knew that the AI would alert Tony and the others to his latest episode. "NO! I will not GO!" Harry felt himself levitate and then he was slammed against the wall opposite of where he had smashed his vase. He started to fade all the way.

"HARRY!" Steve Rogers burst into his room, Tony at his heels.

"Jesus fuck! Not again!" Tony shoved the surprised Steve over. He reached up to grab the front of Harry's shirt. "Grab my wrist! HARRY!" Dazed eyes behind skewed, blue-tinted glasses stared down at the billionaire. But slim fingers wrapped around Tony's wrist. "That's right; concentrate on me and here. I got you, Hare-bear."

"Tony..." Harry croaked. His body slowly became more solid as Tony anchored him back onto Earth 389271. Tears flowed down his face. "Where's Coulson?" he rasped.

"Here," Phil said, his face pale. He too reached up to hold onto the wizard. Finally when Cosmos stopped calling him. Phil and Tony took the brunt of Harry's weight as he slowly slid down the wall. "Easy, Harry," the agent said.

"Let me see to him now," Bruce said gently as he squeezed between Coulson and Tony. "Hey there, Harry. Tilt your head back..." The doctor examined Harry as best he could with everyone else hovering over him. "Just bruises and the mother of all headaches," Bruce announced. "Come on, to bed. Everybody, back up." The gamma expert watched as Phil Coulson swung one of Harry's arms around his shoulders, Tony on the other side doing the same thing.

"I think we need to talk to Thor," Steve said solemnly as Harry was whisked away to his bed. "We need info on this Cosmos."

"Agreed," Natasha said from her spot where she was picking up shards of glass. Clint was silently helping her.

"Then we better hurry up our building of the Einstein-Rosen bridge," Jane Foster replied.

000/000

I fear that there is no freedom to be had for me. All I can do is fight. And it will be for the rest of eternity...

000/000

**END**


	9. Gather Round: Reunited Pantheon

**Gather Round: **_**Reunited Pantheon**_

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Enjoy the beginning of Potential's end!

PS: I know it's been forever, so sorry! ;_;

000/00

Letumpolis was a city of shadow and shade upon a floating isle of midnight; an isle frozen at mid-destruction. There was no past, there was no present. There was no time. Deep within the city was a citadel of black marble and at the very top was a throne room of white.

Black feathers were scattered across the white marble floor. A black-robed figure sat upon a throne made of silver and shadows. Along the vaulted ceiling were roosting ravens whose wings were tipped with emerald. One of the ravens flared its ebony and emerald wings and dove down. With a twitch of its muscles, the bird gracefully landed upon the robed one's knee.

"Atticus," the robed figure said softly, "what do you See?"

"Oh Shadowed One," the raven cawed, "he fights Her more actively now. She can no longer force Her call upon him."

Deep within the shadows of its hood, the being smiled grimly. "Cosmos has underestimated our Master, Atticus. After all, he is more than a death god." It chuckled. "Though he certainly took his time."

"Master has precious ones again," Atticus crooned. "They make him strong. And so he fights."

"A simple death god would be weaker and under our jurisdiction as well as under Cosmos. He is not chained to us," the being pointed out.

"Yes, indeed, Shadowed One." The raven shook out his feathers. "It is the other way around. We are chained to him."

"And by binding him thusly, Cosmos broke the rules," the robed figure said in sing-song. They stood, the raven floating up to land upon its shoulder with a flutter of supernaturally strong wings. "Come, my friend. We have a trio of females to finally speak with today."

The other ravens of Atticus' murder filled the air with their laughing, haunting calls.

Death and her raven disappeared from the throne room.

000/000

A dark chuckle broke the silence of the dark cavernous, grand hall. Torches of crimson flame dotted the walls in irregular intervals. "So, it is time," the deep voice of the large, distinctly male being who had chuckled said from his seat upon a single pedestal made of bleached bones. He shifted his massive, heavily muscled body. Large, bat like wings flexed on his broad back. "Death marches now to the Three."

"Our sister has overstepped her bounds," a light, airy voice replied. With wink of light, another being, small, female, and tightly robed in light gray, stepped forward before the other. "The Three have given Her enough time to let him go, to realize Her mistake."

"Ah, but you see, she believes that she knows all, Sees all. She is arrogant and too long have I been in the shadows. Too long have We been locked away.

"And she claims that she is the one who maintains balance, how rude!" The female of the duo harrumphed and planted her tiny fists upon her curved hips. "I am Balance!"

"Yes, sister, I know this. But here is where Cosmos bound us after her victory. Here is where we are chained. Only Death escaped because she can never be bound for she is Death."

"I have opened a passage but it cannot branch out any further than one destination," Balance said softly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Ready?"

The massive being who could only be Chaos slowly stood from his seat. Great clouds of dust were shaken loose as he came to his feet. He flexed his wings wide and stretched out his arms. From beneath his own hood attached to his shirt, Chaos smiled a fanged grin. "Aye, let us be off, Sister Balance, to the Three. And if Cosmos does not comply with the Three, then..."

"Another war of the Gods may commence," Balance said sullenly. Then she perked up. "I just want to be free, even if it means I must fight."

"And if Death gets her way, her Master will not be Cosmos' champion."

000/000

The gods of Cosmos' court froze in the middle of their activities. A calm shattering scream echoed out from their Goddess queen upon her throne. She writhed as Her body attempted to fade. But by some queer magic, they could not go to Her. With one last shriek of despair, Cosmos disappeared.

The shining city of Valnir fell into a panic.

000/000

Harry Potter paused, his heavy dragon-hide boot firmly planted between the shoulder-blades of a downed, and magically bound Magneto. From behind blue lenses, his bright yellow eyes blinked slowly. He stepped away from the wheezing mutant.

"Yo, Scales, what's shakin'? You okay?" Tony asked over the comms as he landed cautiously away from Magneto. Slowly the rest of the team, battered but victorious, gathered around. Natasha kept a wary eye on the now unconscious leader of the Brotherhood.

The immortal cocked his head to the side. "I'm not quite sure..." he replied. "It feels like a summons-"

"Oh shit! Batten down the hatches!" Clint cried, diving for Harry in an attempt to hold him. He let out a manly squeak when the wizard stepped to the side without changing his curious expression.

"—But it's not Cosmos," Harry finished sheepishly, watching as his archer friend pull himself out the rubble he had landed in. He turned to look at Cap. "It's warmer and there are three voices instead of Cosmos'... demanding screeching." The white-haired Avenger placed a steady hand against his chest, over his sternum.

Steve pursed his lips. "And it's not a hallucination?" he asked.

"Captain, when have I ever hallucinated?"

"Good point..."

"So, what will you do?" Natasha wondered as she shifted and poked at Magneto with the toe of her left boot. In the distance, SHIELD could be seen containing the mutant's minions... err, soldiers. Several agents were headed for them, zeroed in on Magneto.

"I think I'll answer it."

"Magic Snake stupid," Hulk grumbled. "Not answer other calls but answer this one? Stupid."

"Perhaps," Harry mused. "But this sounds important. Beyond even Cosmos in power."

"I think you should talk to Agent, first. He'll have something to say about that," Tony pointed out as the mask to his armor lifted over his head to expose his face.

"You're damned right I do," Coulson said solemnly over the comms, no longer content to listen. "Debrief in ten, people. Coulson out."

"Oooh, that his I'm-pleasantly-pissed-at-you-prepare-to-be-ripped-to-shreds-while-I-use-my-boring-accountant-monotone voice," Clint said.

"You are ridiculous. I can hear the dash-marks between the words," Harry said with a grim smile.

"Right, let's go then," Steve commanded, taking back the reins. "Hulk, meet us at the tower?" He grinned when Hulk grunted and launched up and over toward the tower. "Tony, you okay to fly?"

"Up and going already!" Tony wagged his eyebrows, slid his mask back down, and took off with a cheeky blast of his repulsors.

Harry held out his hands. "You know the drill, loves," he said cheerfully. Clint groaned but held one of the outstretched hands and used his other hand to hold Natasha's. Steve took the female spy's free hand, and then held Harry's other hand with his own free hand.

"I hate this part!" Clint yelped as the four disappeared with a crack.

000/000

Cosmos blinked open her blue eyes. She found herself upon her knees with magic chains binding her slender arms to her sides. Her fingers seemed glued together as well. The snow and bone-deep cold chilled her to the quick. She looked up and up and up. Color drained from her face.

"Hello Sister," Chaos purred. He towered over her. Balance was bouncing excitedly by his side. And then melting out of the shadows, Death glided into view before the Goddess as well, raven perched on her shoulder.

"How?" Cosmos croaked.

"Look at where we are," Death intoned, gesturing to her right.

Cosmos looked at where Lady Death pointed. Nestled among the jagged, black slopes stood a lonely, snowy gate. She gasped. "Nay! NAY!" she screamed.

000/000

**TBC**

Pics! There are some works that inspired some the locations mentioned in this part. Links on my profile! And give love to the amazing artists!


	10. Before the Storms

**Before the Storms**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing that is licensed. _

000/000

"Paperwork is evil," Harry intoned. With a laugh, he dodged the staple remover with a single twitch of his neck, the item skimming past the apple of his right cheek. "You're getting better."

"Harry, really?" Agent Philip Coulson, now a thirty-something, huffed in irritation. "Will you stop popping in all the damned time?"

"No." The immortal cartwheeled into the air, never landing. Instead he floated upside down and folded his legs so that it looked like he was sitting Indian-style. He grasped his ankles while bobbing in the air. "I'm bored."

"I can tell," Coulson said dryly. He relaxed back onto his couch. "It is highly disconcerting seeing you like that."

"I know."

The SHIELD agent felt his eyebrow twitch. The twisted grin aimed his way did not ease him. "So what do you want?"

Harry gasped. "Really, my friend? Really? You think I want something?" His right hand let go of his ankle to press over his heart. "Here I am, out the goodness of my immortal heart, just visiting you, and you think I want something! The nerve, sir, the nerve!"

"Don't be a drama llama," Phil huffed, feeling like a teenaged boy trying to placate a hysterical girl. "You never just pop in unless there's an emergency or a warning you feel like giving." He raised both eyebrows now, a look of supreme skepticism on his usually placid face. "Spit it out, and I don't mean your venom."

Deadly yellow eyes narrowed. "I do not spit out venom," he groused.

"The Lake Victoria base, 1993," Philip pointed out. He smirked when Harry sputtered. "Moscow, last year..."

"Lies!" Harry gasped. "I say you nay!"

"Whatever," the agent huffed. "Stop dodging."

There was a pause as the playful nature drained out of Harry. He flipped himself right-side up and floated down until his feet were flat against the floor. "You are my friend. I have not had a friend for a very long time."

"Harry?" Phil froze as Harry reached out. Gentle fingers skimmed along the rough stubble decorating the other's jawline.

"Thank you." With that, the immortal demi-god wizard disappeared the same way he appeared, silently and without a trace.

000/000

**END**

What the...? Was that a hint of slash? *squints eyes and tilts head* Huh... idk...


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